A little bit of magic, a little bit of logic, and a lot of coincidence
by JustALilSnail
Summary: My self-indulgent AU where Connor grew up on Camp Jupiter and Travis on Camp Half Blood.
1. It started with you

**Writer's Month Day 14: Fairy Tale**

**Written for the Writer's Month thing on Tumblr. I think back in middle school I wrote in my notebook about this AU (except it was flipped around with Travis at Jupiter instead) and I rewrote it for Writer's Month Day 14, Fairy Tale. I'm going to be upfront and say that I have literally no idea where this will be going. MCD, happy ending, sad ending, they both die, anything can happen. **

**Rated T for some bad language.**

**Chapter 1: It started with you**

Fairy tale. His life is a fairy tale. A world filled with monster and magic. Dragons and witches. One-eyed behemoths and spell-casting sirens. It's a fairy tale, but not fully. There's no strong prince or princess to save the country. There's no kind king or queen. There's no knight in shining armor. It's just him and him alone (No, wait, that sounds wrong) against this big, cold world.

Oh.

He and the wolf.

Only the strong survive, she says.

He's not strong. (but somebody is out there waiting for him so he _needs _to survive. He will become strong. He will get through this.)

And he did.

When Connor was four, he survived the Wolf House, traveled to Camp Jupiter, and became a Roman soldier.

* * *

Years pass. It's not so bad at Camp Jupiter. Sure, there's little annoyances here and there: like, Octavian always glaring at him, him being stuck in the fifth cohort, his inability to learn Latin that well, his weird preferences for the Greek names over the Roman ones, and the most annoying of all, an itching, indescribable feeling that _somebody_ is waiting for him. Somebody… which is ridiculous.

He nobody outside of Camp Jupiter so he doesn't understand this feeling.

He barely has anybody here at camp.

Almost everybody hates him for some reason. There's this rampant avoidance most of the legionnaire has towards him even among the outcast of the fifth cohort.

His only friends are Gwen, Dakota, and Jason. But Gwen is busy as a centurion, Dakota is also busy as a centurion and Jason is missing. So the time he used to spend by playing board games or karaoke with the others is now spent alone. Most days he sneaks out of the camp to search for Jason. Some days he stalks Reyna or Octavian to see if they're harboring secrets. And rarely, but every now and then, he rolls himself in his blankets and sleep.

It's during one of those rare days that he finally meets Nico Di Angelo, the other child of Ha— Pluto like Hazel. Nico has been visiting as their ambassador for months now, but it's like fate was keeping them apart. His plans to introduce himself was always thwarted by Reyna assigning him a task or some saty— faun asking him for help. Or maybe it wasn't fate. Maybe it was just coincidence. (Nothing is ever a coincidence.)

"Let me put away my books and we can go to New Rome."

"So this is your living quarters. It's … nice."

"Yeah, isn't it?"

Connor lifts a corner of his blankets up and squints at the two bodies, one voice familiar and the other not so much. "Hazel?" he says.

One of the body startles. "Connor, hey, what are you doing here? Are you okay?"

He slinks off his bed, blankets crumpled into a pile, and stretches with hands locked over his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just taking a cat nap."

"You were slacking off, weren't you?" Hazel tuts in disapproval, a hand on her hip. Beside her, the stranger stiffens.

"Nah, I finish all my duties first. I would never, _ever_ dream of incurring Reyna's wrath," he says lightheartedly with a slight smile.

He turns to the newcomer and welp. He can tell. They're not going to get along. The boy, maybe his age or younger, is wide-eyed, jaws clenched. His hands are trembling in a fist by his side and Connor made himself be _very_ aware of the dagger sheathed on the kid's belt. His own weapon is a few feet away under his pillow. There's a window directly to his right four feet away and two doors, one behind and in front of the barracks, for his exit. Not that it'll do anything against shadow traveling, but it doesn't help to be aware of all his exits.

"Hi, my name is Connor. I don't think we ever met," he says and holds out a hand.

It wasn't reciprocated.

And Connor lowers his hand back to his side.

Hazel peeks curiously between them, unsurely muttering the kid's name (Nico) in concern. Nico snaps out of whatever trance he was in and coughs behind a hand which he stuffs into the pockets of his black leather jacket. "Sorry about that," he mutters.

Connor smiles brightly. "Don't worry about it. It's fine." _No, it's not. I never met you. Why di you react that way? That hurts. That really, really hurts._ "It must be the bed hair. I know it terrifies everybody every morning."

And he laughs really loudly to fill the awkward silence. Nobody laughs with him, so he lets it die. Nico is still staring at him with wide eyes albeit less intensity.

Hesitantly, Nico asks, "Con… nor, right?"

"Yup, that's my name."

Nico eyes him up and down again. "Do you… are you… your face looks familiar. I am certain I met you before. Do you have a twin?"

Ah. He knows what must have happened. Octavian or some fucknut probably had some child of Hekate mist them to look like him and screw with Nico. Despicable, but he isn't surprised. It happens all the time. If he can only secure solid proof, he might be able to stop the impersonations. It's going to get him killed one day. (And he can't die yet. Someone is waiting for him.)

With a beaming smile, he answers, "Yeah, no. I'm an only child. You probably mistook me for someone else."

* * *

Except, no, that is wrong.

He knows it's wrong the moment the words "only child" cross his mouth.

He's not an only child. (Someone)

And when he sees a stranger with sea-green eyes and black hair, carrying a lady on his back and crossing the Little Tiber, when he runs over to help him, when they lock eyes, when the sea-green eyes widen in surprise, when the lady (Goddess) own eyes widen too but in panic, when a name not his own passes through the stranger's lips, when the name punches a hole into his gut that he keels over gasping, he knows.

He's not an only child.

* * *

"_Travis?"_

* * *

_Reviews are appreciated! If there are spelling/grammar mistakes, please tell me. Thank you for reading!_


	2. A little bit of a confrontation

**Written for Accidental Baby Acquisition for Writer's Month.**

**Chapter 2: A little bit of a confrontation**

Jason kinda remembers the day Connor came to camp. He himself arrived when he was three and Connor just a year later, the only two orphaned 4 year olds in all of Camp Jupiter.

Connor was… Connor was a bit on the shy side back then. Wouldn't talk with anyone at their foster home. Would try to run away often. Wouldn't eat at all. Would cry all the time.

Then it all disappeared the third day he was with them. Just one day, all his sadness was seeped from him and replaced with an insurmountable eager curiosity like all four year olds.

Being at Camp Half Blood, with his memory slowly recovering day by day, he remembers Connor. He remembers how they became friends at the young age of four. He remembers them proving themselves to get into the legion together. He remembers Connor's quiet grunt when he got the SPQR tattoo. He remembers the very poorly imagined, but highly successful prank (the only one ever in all their years at Jupiter) they pulled on Octavian. He remembers late-night strategizing during the Titan War. He remembers waking up after a stab wound in the infirmary to Connor beside him. He remembers panicking when Connor got pinned by an empousa and was seconds away from death. He remembers celebrating after the Titan's defeat at Mount Othrys.

He finally remembers Connor and the history between them.

He remembers Connor.

He remembers Connor.

He doesn't get angry often, but when your childhood friend is right there when you're confused and anemiasic and didn't say or do anything, you will get angry too.

It was hard to get 'Travis' by himself—always surrounded by people strangely enough— but when he finally did in the solitude of Cabin 1, he slams a hand on the wall besides 'Travis' head.

"You can drop it now," Jason snaps but Connor still keeps at the act. His mouth twitches upwards into a crooked smile and he chuckles nervously.

"W-what?"

"You. Can. Stop. Pretending. I got my memories back."

Connor stares at him with an unchanging expression, mouth still in that unsure smile. "Nice man. I'm happy for you."

Jason groans and pulls back. "I remember you. You can stop with the acting now."

Connor takes the opportunity to step back too, a hand going to rub the back of his neck. Another tic when he's nervous and stressed and Jason feels a twinge of guilt. Stressing Connor wasn't his intent. What was supposed to happen was Connor breaking out into a big, great laugh and saying, 'it took you long enough' then they go take a swing at the climbing wall.

Connor shouldn't be uncomfortable, like he is now — crap, he didn't even consider if the Gods were blackmailing Connor to keep quiet.

And Connor definitely shouldn't be saying, "Look, Jason, I think you got the wrong person. I never met you before you came here last week."

Three.

Two.

One.

Cue the laughter. A hand clapping on his shoulder. Connor wiping a tear away. "Haha! You fell for it!"

There's none of that.

Connor — Travis — chuckles again and offers an apologetic smile. "Sorry? I'm not the person you're looking for."

Jason takes a closer look at Travis. Travis has Connor's hair color, a brown color similar to that of a tree's bark. Eyes the mid-blue of the ocean. Face structure. Height. The curve of the nose. Their nervous tics. Even the voice. They're all the same.

The only difference is that Travis smiles more, even in the presence of his superiors, but Connor would smile a lot too when he's with his friends.

There's no conceivable difference.

And if it weren't for the honesty Jason can see in Travis's still apologetic eyes, he would call bull.

"You're not Connor."

Travis shakes his head.

Jason watches his face for any gives but there is none. Shit. Travis is telling the truth He needs to talk with Annabeth and Chiron about this discovery. He's 100% certain Travis looks like Connor and if they aren't the same person then they're twins.

Maybe they're what he and Thalia are. Same mother, but different God persona father.

"I'm sorry, Travis, for bothering you. I thought you were somebody else," Jason apologizes.

Travis thankfully accepts his apology with a hearty pat on the back. "Don't sweat about it, man. I totally did not pee my pants from you glaring at me and dragging me to your cabin. And I totally did not imagine I was going to die gruesomely by your hands alone in your dinky, scary cabin."

"I wouldn't have hurt you," Jason says, affronted.

But Travis laughs freely and that definitely is Connor's laugh. "Dude, you are a scary person. Do you know that?"

"I've been told I look like a teddy bear."

"Who told you that?"

"My friend, Connor."

"My doppelgänger is lying to you."

"He would never."

But Travis snorts and Jason is painfully aware of the way his crooked grin slants more. It always does that when Connor's being playful. Do twins share behaviors despite never meeting? Or maybe this is Connor with his identity replaced with a new name. But four beads are on his necklace. According to his knowledge, the beads correspond to years spent on Camp Half Blood. They're not the same person.

"Come on, you have the face of a polar bear. Threatening. Mean."

"Cuddly," he interjects, smiling as Travis rolls his eyes.

"He's blind then."

"Wrong. Connor has the best eye among us. He has great accuracy and a great gut sense. He's an amazing fighter, one of the best. He's loyal. Strong. A model Roman soldier. He takes the initiative. He takes the initiative far too much. He's on the front of every battle. He volunteers for crazy stunts no one wants to do. He follows orders to a tee.

(Why didn't you fight back?)

He does whatever is asked of him.

(Don't let him talk down to you.)

He never complains.

(You're Roman. )

He never talks back.

(You don't have to prove it. )

He lets people step over him.

(You are one of us, Connor. )

And I hate that about him.

* * *

**AN: thank you for reading! **


	3. A little more confront— oh shit

Written for writer's month day 18: poetry.

* * *

**Chapter 3: A little more confront— Oh man. Oh fuck. Not the result I wanted.**

"Acting."

"No."

"Drawing."

"No."

"Writing."

"No."

"... Poetry."

"Dude."

"Right, right. You don't look like a person who enjoys that kind of stuff."

Percy Jackson usually doesn't torment demigods undeserving of his torment. But 'Connor' Stoll, aka Travis Stoll, aka Asshole, totally deserves it. And Nico too when he sees him again. Seriously, they both kept quiet when he had his memory wiped? And Travis is still going with his charade? Seriously? Well, two can play at that game.

"Poker."

"No."

"Rockclimbing."

"No."

"Running."

"No."

"Do you do anything for fun? Come on, you are literally the most boringest guy I know."

Travis's jaw twitches into an almost near grin, but other than that his face remains unchanged and his stance unmoved. Completely still. Completely unmoving in the clearing outside New Rome.

He looks nothing like the guy he met before he left for the quest with Frank and Hazel. Well, at first, he was stoic and reserved just like he is now, but after a few minutes Percy learns that Connor is actually pretty chill for a Roman and a daredevil. His type of friend! Actually, he's a daredevil compared to other Romans. Compared to the Greeks though...

Also Connor is a talker with a concerning amount of health issues like headaches and sleepwalking and sleeptalking and frequent nightmares bad enough he sometimes wakes up crying and random moments where he zones out and yeah. Based of what Connor said, he should go see a doctor pronto.

But everyone he talked to says Connor has none of those conditions. Then again, those he talked to has some sort of agenda towards the son of Mercury.

And then Percy got his memories back.

He goddamn knew something was off with Nico and Travis's behavior. Travis just went the extra step of changing his name and his personality. Kudos to him. Even now, when he has his memories Travis is still keeping to his role. What a trooper.

Percy's gonna change that.

"You should leave him alone," Reyna says offhandedly, hands behind her back as she stares up at the slowly descending airship. "Jason will not be happy if he finds out you been antagonizing him."

"What? Is Jason your best friend or something?"

Reyna and Percy waits for Travis to say something, but when it becomes obvious he is content at just staring at the airship, Reyna answers, "They're childhood friends. Jason doesn't tolerate anyone talking bad about his friends."

Childhood friends… can the Mist fabricated memories that far back? Probably with the right skillset. Or with godly intervention. Is that what's happening with Travis? Did a God give him a new persona and made everyone think he's a Roman soldier? It's plausible. Travis did faint when he saw him at the Little Tiber. Gave them all a big scare. Almost cost him his life for harming one of their soldiers. Thankfully, Travis got back on his feet a minute later and defended him.

Come to think of it… This Roman soldier-posing Travis is a lot more serious than the Travis he knows. And in terms of skillset, he seen the way this guy fights and Travis definitely cannot fight like that. Can the Mist fabricates fighting ability too?

Well. The only way to figure all this out is to ask Travis upfront.

With a glance at the descending airship still a ways away, he turns to face Travis.

Travis spares him a peek before looking back at the airship.

Percy takes a deep breath, feels something clench around his stomach that says not to do it, ignores that gut feeling, opens his mouth, and says it.

"You're actually Travis, aren't you?"

The change is so miniscule he barely caught it, but Travis's eyes widen and for a second Percy thought he's right. Then Travis fell to his knees, clutching his head.

And the 'aha, I got you' moment becomes an 'oh shit' moment.

Jason is definitely going to kill him for this.

Screams erupt around them. He yells for a medic, sinking to Travis's side. It's just like the first time they met. Travis goes limp, fainting. Percy catches him before he hit his head. There's a few seconds of terrifying no response, then Travis stirs in his arms.

What didn't happen last time is Travis vomiting all over the ground and passing out again.

A few seconds pass.

He didn't get up.

And oh shit. Oh crap. Oh dear Poseidon.

He lifts Travis in a bridal hold, the chest plate and sword sheath digging uncomfortably into his clavicles and hip. He announces loudly he's going to take him to the infirmary.

But a ladder flies down from the ship above and hits the ground with a plomb.

The Greeks — Annabeth — are coming.

He wants to stay. He needs to see her as soon as he can. But the disgusting smell of vomit and Travis's trembling in his arms reminds him that he caused this. He's the reason Travis is sick. The least he could do is take the guy to the infirmary.

When he tries to shovel past the people, Reyna grabs him by the end of his sleeve and shakes her head.

"Percy, stop. Give Connor to Dakota," she orders, "You're needed here."

* * *

Thank you for reading! Reviews/comments are always appreciated!

The next four chapters are written, but I need to revise them and edit and reread them and figure out the ending first and yadda yadda yadda. Sorry, but it might take a few weeks ^^;


	4. Don't sprint while sick, guys

**Written for Writer's Month Day 15: First time**

_So my memories of the books are very, very bad. I read the books the week they came out years ago and never reread them again. So I'm sorry for the inaccuracies. _

**Chapter 4: Sprinting while sick is not advisable. Someone please help.**

He's in a child's room. There's a bunk bed. There's a colorful rug. It's not familiar. (Yes it is!) He's alone. He's falling. He's disappearing. He's disintegrating. He's waking up. And he feels like he missing someone important.

That feeling is quickly overshadowed by the more pressing matter of his horrible, horrible headache. Everywhere aches actually. The room is unbearably cold despite the sun lighting every corner of the room and the thick, scratchy blankets tucked around him. Worse of all is the queasiness in his stomach. He feels seconds away from throwing up.

Nope. Don't do that. Push it down. Think about what happened instead.

What... happened instead…

Percy was asking him questions. Reyna answered something for him. Jason was mentioned. Then…then...

Nothing. He can't recall anything.

He smells alcohol. Is he in the infirmary? Did he pass out? Oh god, did he pass out in front of _everybody_? Reyna? Percy? _Octavian?_

He tries to sit up but a pounding in his head begs him not to move and he succumbs to the voice, burrowing into the warmth of the covers. What're a few more minutes of rest? No one knows he's awake yet. He'll just sleep for one more hour or two and then he'll get up and go find the others.

But then the ground shakes, trembles, quakes.

Screams erupt outside.

And Connor groans, pushing the covers away.

* * *

First time passing out and this is what happens. The Greeks visited. Percy was judo flipped by his girlfriend. New Rome was attacked. And Octavian was right. Oh dear gods, Octavian was _right._ The Greeks _were _dangerous. Why the fuck must the Greeks prove Octavian right? Now he's never going to shut up.

The cannons rocking the ground is what spurs him into action and the terrified screaming is what makes him ignore the pain. In ten seconds he is out of the infirmary with his dagger to find New Rome under attack by a flying ship.

His head pounds a beat harder for some reason looking at the ship wrecking ruins to his beloved camp. It feels like betrayal and if Octavian ever catches wind of that thought, he'll be cast out.

He runs towards New Rome, shaking off the lethargy. He stumbles a bit but he quickly caught himself before he fell.

For every step he takes, a cannon fire. The House Senate. The Toga shop. The Boba cafe. All gone. All rubble. All blasted to pieces by the Greeks.

And rather than face their crimes, they're trying to escape.

There're two people — a girl he doesn't know in an orange shirt and Percy — on the rope ladder. Hazel on Orion and Frank the Dragon are guarding their ascent. Catapults are being lined up but the ship's cannons destroy them before they could be loaded. Romans are tossing glass plates and rocks at the ship, but the ship is too high to reach. It's impossible to get near the ladder with Hazel and Frank guarding it.

But still intact, are a couple buildings tall enough to shoot a grappling hook from.

Connor runs into the forum and runs right into the sturdy chest of Michael Kahale, a son of Aphrodi — Venus.

He tumbles back, steadying himself before he falls over like a fool. A circle of Romans are gathered in the destroyed forum. It isn't hard to see Percy, Hazel, and Frank are gone. Jason too, but he pushes that little tidbit out of his mind. Camp first. Everything else second.

Dakota walks up to him, the edges of his toga singed black, and says, "You shouldn't be out."

"I'm fine." _No. I'm not._ "Where's Reyna?" he asks.

Octavian sneers and oh boy, Connor braces himself for the crap about to come out of his shitty mouth. "Oh look, the little graecus is still here."

"I'm Roman," he responds. Connor looks past Octavian to Michael, the only other decent Roman here, and asks him, "Where's Reyna?"

"We don't know," someone behind Octavian answers with an ugly face. It twists and becomes a thousand times even more unflattering. "Maybe your _Greek friends _did something to her."

"The eagles?" he asks, ignoring the not really subtle accusation. He's Roman. His allegiance is with the Romans. Ignore them. Ignore them all.

"Not here yet," Dakota says, "And if they don't get here soon, the ship will get away."

Connor looks at the cobblestone square blasted into pieces, at the burning buildings, at the civilians and retired legionaries throwing rocks that never even come close to the ship, at the poor Boba Tea cafe he loves, and at the ship that caused all of this — the ship where three, four if he counts Jason, of their comrades voluntarily protected.

"No, it won't," Connor says. They're not going to get away. They have to pay for this. They have to fix this. "I'll stop it."

A person to Octavian's right snorts. "You?"

He ignores that too.

"Dakota, you still have your infinity grappling hook on you, right?"

"Yeah…" Dakota reluctantly pulls the magic hook from his toga, "But it can only carry one person at a time."

"On the other side New Rome, there is a good angle to shoot from and grab the rail. I'll get onboard, take control or sabotage the ship, and bring it down," Connor says, eyeing the distance, where he needs to aim. He pushes back his awareness of the throbbing pain in his muscles. He refuses to let something as small as that deter this mission.

(Don't do this.)

"You don't have to do this," Dakota argues, "I can do it."

"I'm faster than you. The ship can take off any second now," he counters, grabbing the grappling hook from Dakota's lax hands. (He doesn't trust you too) _Shut up_. "Don't worry, guys. I'll get the ship down."

Nobody looks convinced but then again nobody ever believes in him except for Jason and Gwen. And Jason is up there helping the enemy escape. But now is not the time to think about that.

He turns to run but Octavian steps in his way. "How do we know you're not leaving to join them?"

"I'm not." He walks around the son of Apollo, but Octavian is persistent, latching a hand onto his wrist.

"But how do we know? As we all can see, it didn't take much for Percy and Jason to left us for the graeci. How are you any different?"

(Don't do this.)

For a second, he could almost picture Jason the one saying it.

Don't do it. You don't have to prove yourself. You're Roman.

He shoves that treacherous, confusing voice and Jason's needlessly reasonable one into a chest and fuses it shut with a welding gun.

He doesn't need to prove himself but if he never does, the doubt will never end. No one will ever trust him. And he's trustworthy. He's loyal. He doesn't abandon his people. (Stop lying.)

He whirls around to face Octavian and his goons, standing tall and firm despite the pain everywhere on his body and the bruising grip on his wrist.

"I won't betray Camp Jupiter," he states, voice loud and echoing through the burning ruins. "I won't."

Octavian snorts and his grip tightens. "Words don't mean much, Stoll."

"Then I promise on the River Styx." Connor ignores the horror on Dakota's face. "I promise on the River Styx I am loyal to Camp Jupiter. If I am untrue to my camp, if my loyalty is overturned, if I side with the Greeks, then I will jump off the ship and face my punishment, whatever it will be."

When his vow ends, there's a moment of silence. None of the legionnaires spoke. Dakota has a hand rubbing his temples. Michael stares at him with a hard, disapproving face. Octavian is expressionless.

Then he isn't.

His gauntly face lifts into a plotting smile. The hand on his wrist lets go and Connor let it fall back to his side.

"I'll hold you to it, Connor," Octavian says, sidestepping.

Connor spares a second to smile at Dakota.

"Don't worry. I got this."

Then he runs as fast as he can to the other side of New Rome.

Today is not a good day to be running. His lungs burn almost immediately. His sides beg for him to stop. His brain is screaming warning bells. But Connor has always been great at ignoring his body's wishes and pushing himself to the extremes. It's the only way to keep up with someone as powerful as Jason and Reyna.

(Don't do this) He amps up his speed. (Come on) He glances over his shoulder. (Think about what you're doing) He judges the distance. (Someone is waiting for you) He spins around. (Stop) Aims the grappling hook. (Don't) Steadies his hands. (Don't shoot) And shoot.

* * *

Author's Note:

Major oof but I still have no idea how to end this. The good news though is that I have written up chapter 12! The bad news is that I don't like how chapter 12 ended. Also I kinda changed a few minor details in chapter two. Not that big but still a change. See, this is why I should write it all first before posting :(


	5. I have to say I am a pretty great friend

**Chapter 5: I have to say, I am a pretty great friend.**

**Written for Writer's Month Day 22: Summer**

Connor climbs onto the ship not so gracefully and rolls over the rail onto the deck, sliding the grappling hook onto his belt. He surveys his surroundings. By the ballistas, Percy and a blonde are beside an unconscious body. In the middle of the deck is Jason, unmoving, — _oh gods. Is he dead?! No, wait. His chest is rising. Jason's okay._ _Jason's fine _— and another girl, conscious and tending to Jason.

Nobody notices him yet despite his rather loud landing. If he hurries, he can bring this down without fighting a single —

"Go! Get us out of here!" Percy yells and the blonde nods, standing up with speed and turning around. She freezes though when she sees him.

Their eyes meet.

Her eyes widen. She mouths a name. (_His_ name). A blast of icy cold wind chills his core (someone) (someone is waiting for him), but he pushes that thought away.

Camp Jupiter first. Everything else second. Prove your worth and all of your problems will be solved.

Connor uses the only asset he has, his slightly above-average speed, and takes off for the helm. The blonde follows after him unfortunately.

He doesn't want to fight.

(You can still back out)

But there's no other choice. There's no backing out.

He reaches the helm seconds before the girl will. At first glimpse, it's obvious everything at the helm is handcrafted. The navigation system is… unorthodox. No traditional steering wheel. Just a variety of game controllers plus a dubstep keyboard and an aviation throttle all linked to several big screens.

The girl is nearly here. Make a decision, Connor. And make it fast.

He lunges for the aviation throttle, but before he could push forward the girl screams that name again.

Travis.

Travis…

That name… that name sounds so familiar, even as it tears a hole in his chest. Travis… Travis… Travis is… Travis is someone important… someone he treasures. But that's ridiculous. He never met a person named Travis before at all (Liar. Think harder.)

_No. Stop it. Camp Jupiter. You're going to prove Octavian wrong, remember? Don't you want to rub it in Octavian's face? Don't you want to rub it in all their faces about his success? Then stop listening to the voice and just do it, you loser. _

Connor grits his teeth, grips the throttle, and pushes it forward. The ship angles downward slowly. Not exactly what he wants to do. How does he lower the ship? Ah, whatever. He doesn't have to bring the ship down. As long as he keeps it in place until the eagles could get here.

The dubstep keyboard probably controls the ship's cannons, oars, and mast. He stabs his dagger into the keyboard, flinching from the resulting sparks. The Wii remote he doesn't have a clue as to what it does, but he jabs it with his dagger too. As for the monitors, he cuts the wires on the back and watches the screens turn black.

Looks like they made a stop at McDonald's before coming here. The soda cup sitting on the dashboard is half full and from the transparent lid, he can tell it's definitely not water. Great!

He's about to reach for the cup when the girl pushes him aside with enough force to knock him to his back.

"Crap. Crap. Crap. You couldn't have made this simpler could you, Leo?" the blonde curses as she spends a second to stare at the controls in confusion before she finally spotted the throttle. That second cost her. Connor sweeps his foot on the back of her knees, watching her lose balance and hit her head on the dashboard.

She glares at him and oh man, her glare? It's definitely enough to make him want to quiver in fear. But that's something Octavian loves to poke fun at so he fires up whatever specks of courage he still has left and says, "You shouldn't have attacked my home."

"Your home?" Her eyebrows furrow. "Jason wasn't lying. You're really not Travis, are you?"

Connor clenches his eyes shut and wills the pain away with minimal success. Why does that name always do this? He doesn't understand. His head… his whole body… it feels like he's been shot and dunked in an ice bath. Fuck. He hates this. He hates everything right now.

"I'm not," he starts to say, but the world spins dangerously. _Don't pass out again. Don't pass out. Now's not the time. _"My name isn't Travis. It's Connor. I'm an only child."

The girl hums. She probably doesn't think he noticed her hand itching back up to the controls, but he sees it and he tackles her. Not that it did much. In seconds, he's pinned on his back in a rear chokehold.

"Are you sure you're an only child?" the girl grunts into his ears, tightening her hold. "We have someone who looks exactly like you back in my camp."

"Sure you do," Connor mutters and tries to roll around, failing spectacularly. But at least the girl is too occupied to reach the controls. If he can keep them this way for a while longer, then—

"Annabeth! We need to go!" Percy yells, running into view. "Terminus is firing up an attack and I don't think this ship can withstand it."

"Kinda busy, Percy," the girl — Annabeth — yells back, "I'll hold him down. You get us out of here. Pull the throttle all the way back."

Connor sucks in a quick breath, pulls his grappling hook from his belt, stops himself from crying when Annabeth tightens her hold, and aims the hook at what he hopes is the dashboard. Annabeth attempts to snatch his weapon away. Or maybe she was trying to mess up his aim. Either way, the pressure on his throat lets up slightly and he elbows her hard in the side. She hisses in pain, pulling back more and Connor lets the back of his fist rocket back and hit her smack in the face.

As she curses and clenches her nose, Connor rolls back up to his feet and takes aim again, focusing on the dashboard and pressing the trigger. The hook shoots forward.

Amazingly enough, Percy notices the hook firing despite the barely noticeable gush of air released. He spins and swings Riptide down on the hook to knock it out of the way. But Connor kinda already knows Percy is that capable. He saw the guy fight.

The hook fell to the ground, right next to Percy's shoes.

Did he feel any guilt when he retracts the hook, the hook snagging on the shoe, and watches the son of Poseidon fall flat on his face?

No. Not really. His favorite boba shop was blasted to pieces because of them. This is just penance.

Connor stands and dodges Annabeth's lunge, tossing the gun on top of her head. He runs to the controls, leaping over Percy's groaning body, and grabs the soda cup again. If he pours it over the controls, it should fry the mechanics, shouldn't it? If it doesn't… two versus one isn't ideal but all he has to do is hold them here long enough for Terminus to attack then boom. Goodbye ship. Hello Justice.

"Connor."

_Now isn't that a familiar voice? _Connor bites his cheeks, but he doesn't let go of the cup. _Pour it._

"Connor, wait."

"... why should I, Jason?" Connor says. _Pour it. What are you doing? _

Connor chances the second to glance up at Jason, standing with the help of a brunette and wearing an orange shirt. He's not a friend. He let his Camp be attacked. He's an enemy.

Even still...

"You're hurt," Connor states, watching blood trickle down Jason's temple. "What happened? Did another brick get to you?"

Jason rolls his eyes as the brunette stares between them. "Yes, it was a brick just like two years ago. Funny, I know. Absolutely hilarious. We can laugh about this later but Connor, I need you to listen to me. Put down the cup."

Connor raises it instead. "No."

"Connor," the brunette begins to say, voice calm. "Put down the cup. Let's talk this out."

For some reason, her voice just makes him all the more angrier.

"No." He pops the lid.

"I know you're angry," Jason says, tone slightly hurried now, "I know you think if you stop us from leaving, they'll accept you. But the truth is—"

"Angry is kind of an understatement, Jason," Connor snaps.

Jason continues like he never talked. "Octavian and his lackeys were never going to accept you. You fought in the titan war. You defended it the same as any of us. That should have been enough. Doing this won't change their opinion."

(He's right, you know.)

His vision swarms, hard blinking no longer working on curbing the nausea away. A hand grasps his shoulder and he knocks it aside. Somehow Jason stumbles to his side. More than anything in the world, Connor hates the concern on Jason's face. It makes him feel incompetent. Worthless. Weak.

"I don't care about being accepted. You attacked us. You need to face justice." His voice breaks towards the end.

"It's to save the world," Jason states. His hand grips his wrist holding the cup.

(Let's leave.)

"The… world? Come on. You're exaggerating," he snorts, but he could feel his resolve crumbling.

Jason shakes his head. "No, I'm not. This is to save the world."

(Let's go east)

The pounding in his head isn't making understanding any of this easier. He blinks hard again, rubbing the heel of his hand over his eyes.

(And then you can finally find him.)

"The giants are rising." (Leave)

Ah.

"Me, Piper, Leo, all of us. We are going to stop it." (Go east)

It's happening again.

"So please." (Someone is waiting for you)

That dream. That woman with two kids in her arms. He can't see their faces. He could never see their faces. But they're important. He needs to see them again. He needs to find them. (East.)

"Connor? Hey? You okay? Are you still there?"

When Jason places a hand on his shoulder again, he doesn't bother knocking it aside. He looks down at the controls, not believing what he's going to say next.

"It's… really to save the world?" (Someone is in this world. Might as well let it be saved as you go east and find your—)

Jason nods and Connor's chest tightens like a hand is squeezing over it.

"I really, really hate you," Connor says, pouring the drink onto the deck and stepping back.

The three fates appear behind Jason, wrinkly, old faces judging him and judging him hard.

_Yeah, yeah. My promise. I didn't forget. _

"Wipe that smile off your face, Jason." Connor scowls, bumping his friend's shoulder as he turns around and walks to the rail. "You destroyed my favorite boba shop. When this is all over, I'm making you buy me as many boba drinks I want forever."

The stupid grin doesn't drop from Jason's face. "5 boba drinks a month. I can't afford to spend hundreds of dollars for your boba addiction. Hey, Connor, where are you going?"

Connor didn't answer as he stops by the rail. He can see Frank as a dragon distracting Terminus down below. He can see Hazel putting out the fires on the sails. He can see he's thousands of feet above the ground. Everybody is just a dot. The giant eagles are finally here and racing towards the ship, but they're probably not going make it.

"Connor?" Jason asks quizzically.

He steps atop the rail.

"Connor!?"

_I can't believe you gave up so easily_.

"Connor, get dow—"

And jumps down back to Camp Jupiter.

* * *

Out of the four seasons, Connor has to say summer is his favorite. It's warm. It's bright. It's full of life. Going out of camp with his friends and visiting the sea lions at Pier 39 is his favorite activity to do ever.

(And the summer atmosphere reminds him of someone. He likes summer too.)

Someone catches him as he's falling, her cheerful voice telling him who saved his life. But Connor opens his eyes just a tad to double check, resting his head on the uncomfy armor.

"Thanks, Gwen," he mumbles.

"You're welcome, you idiot. Octavian was going to let you fall to your death, but I wasn't about to let that happen."

"Thanks." It might have been better if he'd just fallen to his death though.

He listens to the eagles' flap their wings, but they're not going to reach the ship. Octavian's cussing confirms Jason and the others are gone. He still opens his eyes though to see the tail end of the ship disappear into the clouds. The glares he gets from Octavian and the others are enough to make him squirm closer into Gwen's arms.

"Don't let them get to you," she says to him with undeserved support. "They couldn't even get on board the ship."

"Gwen," he murmurs, "I let them go."

But she just says it's okay, smiling with her saccharine grin. "I kinda figured you will. Jason can make you do anything he wants. Don't worry though. I'll protect you from Octavian."

Connor pouts. "No, he can't."

(Yes, he can.)

"Yes, he can," Gwen says, her smile dropping in concern. "Connor, you should sleep. You look like you need it."

(She's not wrong.)

_Why don't you just shut up?_

But that annoying voice of his is right. And he hates it when that stupid voice is right. It makes it so much harder to question its validity.

**Author's Notes:**

**Me, checking the last update date: Yes, that sounds about right. That's usually how fast I update a work.**

**Sorry for the wait. I, uh, am not a fast writer so this is usually how long it takes. **(｡_｡；) **Thank you for being patient and for reading!**


	6. it's okay to break the law :)

**[Content warnings listed on the bottom]**

**_Chapter 6: it's okay to break the law as long as no one is watching :)_**

When Connor was five and stupid, he wanted to try and break into the inventory where the nectar and ambrosia were kept. Together. With Jason, his only friend at the time. Like partners in crime or something. For, you know, funsies. Jason told him no and he pouted and whined and begged, but he listened.

When Connor was ten and now getting the concept that he's different, that he's not like the others, that no one except for Jason and Dakota and Gwen likes him, that there's something about him that makes him different from other children of Mercury, he wanted to run away. Run just far enough that there's no more loud whispers and judging stares and open distrust. Jason pleaded with him not to and he held on and fought for ten minutes about why he should, but relented and stayed.

When Connor was fifteen and he had nothing but his life to give, he wanted to prove himself and his worth by going on a 'suicidal' mission. He knows he can make it. He's certain of it. He has the speed and the ability and the desire. All he needs is the chance. But Jason is absolute and stubborn. "You'll lose a limb. You'll die," Jason argued with him and he argued right back. But in the end, he gave in to Jason's wishes.

So when Gwen said that Jason can make him do anything he wants, Connor guesses that is sort of true.

To their eyes.

To their eyes, he is a stern follower of the rules Camp Jupiter set out. Have never broken them in front of his superiors. Have never talked back against his superiors. Have never disobeyed any orders from his superiors.

But just to their eyes.

When Connor was five, he broke into the inventory by himself. It was easy. It was ridiculously easy even with the posted guards. But it was boring and he left without taking anything.

When Connor was ten, he ran away at night and managed to get past the guards (they all suck, holy sandals. What is the point of guards if they all suck at their jobs?) before the headaches send him scrambling back to Camp, back to the foster home, back to his shared room with Jason, and into his bed. He never tried running away after that.

When Connor was fifteen, he did the mission anyway — secretly — and it was a success. Jason chalked it up to luck that it magically took care of itself. Connor gloated in quiet smugness that he did it. (Yeah, he did get injured and had to patch it by himself and hide it and nearly got killed by an empousa because that bitch had to hit him _right_ on his bandaged wound and god, it hurt so bad that he just crumple to his knees but the fact remained that he _did it_ _and lived_ so suck it, Jason. Suicidal mission his ass.)

To their eyes, he's a model soldier. A rule follower.

Behind their backs, anything goes.

Bribing some clueless 11-year-olds to do his lesser, easier duties so he can sleep his headaches off in the middle of the day. Spying on the superiors during the Titan War since they all think he's useless and doesn't tell him anything even though he's experienced enough, old enough, strong enough to be in on their plans. Sneaking out to do his own searching when Jason was missing because he's antsy and fuck, Jason could be dead, Jason could be dying, Jason could be suffering, and how could he just be sitting in Camp doing _nothing?_

And now, picking the lock of his cell in the dead of night, forging a document that says he's good to leave, tracing Octavian's incredibly easy signature onto the document and viola.

He's free to leave.

The guard didn't even question the paper on the desk and just pass him the key to his cell like the incompetent guard he is. Or maybe it's just him that brings out the incompetence in people. No one ever did take him seriously.

It took a while, Gwen and Dakota missing for some reason, but he managed to get some info from some low clearance soldier that Reyna has been missing for a couple days now ("Days? Or has it been weeks? Man, I don't even know what's going on," the incompetent guard tells him with a bored yawn. Connor is going to get everyone working as a guard fired.), presumably gone to help Jason, and Octavian is now leading a group over to attack the other camp in retribution.

Camp Half Blood. In New York.

Connor snatches an imperial weapon, a couple ambrosia squares, the standard gladius as a backup weapon, and sneaks out onto the road with one of Rome University's campus cars.

Fifteen minutes on the freeway, he realizes just what of a big dumbass he is. What can he do over there? Octavian will most definitely be there and will not hesitate to send him back with a demerit. Most of the soldiers there are not friends and will not be willing to hide him from Octavian. He can't help. He can't fight. The best thing he should do is go back to Camp Jupiter and guard against any potential threats like a good—

(Shhh. Drive. Just drive. Don't think too hard about it.)

Pain flares up his head — just like that one time he tried to run away — and Connor grimaces, hitting the radio and letting the awful music (Justin Beiber, bleh) wash over him.

He turns up the volume, enough to vibrate the windshields, enough to not hear his thoughts, enough to not even be able to think, and settle back into the seat for the long drive to Camp Half Blood.

* * *

He gets there after a long, long week (filled with craptastic music, fretful sleep, and a dozen monsters), arriving at about the same time as Nico and Reyna and a faun. A surprising trio. He spies on them with his monoscope as Reyna talks with Nico, respect and protectiveness obvious in her body language. He feels the ugly, familiar tendrils of jealousy snaking around him but he squashes it down and stuffs it in a jar. Now's not the time. If he's being honest, it'll probably never be the time.

What should he do? Meet up with Reyna and Nico? They're on Jason's side, right? Maybe he can help them. Would they even want to work with him?

He and Reyna aren't exactly best pals but they respect each other. At least, he thinks she respects him. She never indicated otherwise.

And before Nico left, they were on semi-good terms.

And fauns kinda-sorta-not really like him!

It's settled.

He's going to continue hiding in his little hidden corner between his camp's army and the enemy's camp magical border. Just until something happens — a fight or a commotion — then he'll use the chaos to do what he thinks needs to be done then he'll go back to Camp Jupiter, sneak back into his cell, and pretend he did nothing wrong. Or everything could go wrong and he can do none of the above.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" someone says behind him, unfamiliar.

Connor freezes, hand wrapping around his imperial weapon hidden under his shirt, but he forces himself to let it go. Are they talking to him?

He hears shoes on gravel coming towards him and fuck. They are talking to him.

Connor takes a deep breath, makes himself smile, tries to remember what a tourist act like, then he turns around. There's three people. Two boys and a girl, all in bright orange shirts. Enemies, his mind says as his hands twitch for his weapon but they aren't attacking him yet. Three against one isn't ideal but at least they're not man-eating monsters, ya know? That's a plus. That's a very small plus.

Before he can say anything, do anything, a guy in the center — in a scrub bottom and flipflops with floppy blond hair, speaks first. "You had guard duty? I thought you were watching over yours and Ares cabin today."

Connor processes the sentence, shifting through his list of excuses to find… that none of it matches with what Scrub Guy is saying. Ares cabin? His cabin? Uh, what?

The other guy frowns. "Are you ditching again? You're one of the older ones. You should be setting an example."

Wait, huh?

The girl squints. "And what are you _wearing_?"

Connor looks down. What is he wearing? Not his usual Roman armor or the standard Camp Jupiter shirt, that is what. He's not completely stupid enough to go on a secret mission wearing identifiable clothes. But the nondescript long-sleeved hoodie? The slightly frayed jeans? The red sneakers? There's nothing wrong with his outfit.

"Why aren't you wearing your camp shirt?" The girl continues.

"The… camp shirt?" Connor frowns. "The very bright and conspicuous camp shirt? The shirt that just screams 'here I am, come eat me?' Are you talking about _that _camp shirt?"

The second guy mutters under his breath, "here he goes again," as blondie frowns.

"Were you trying to sneak out? Seriously? When the Romans are right at our doorsteps?"

"I, uh..." They're clearly mistaking him for someone else. This is a great opportunity, then, to sneak in and get some information.

"Sorry, I was getting some air you know?" he says with a bright smile, "Gotta be fresh when the battle starts."

Blondie in the scrub doesn't seem convinced and Connor wonders if he's playing his lookalike wrongly. For some reason, he's pretty sure he's not.

The improperly dressed doctor frowns, consideration marring his face."Okay… well, I know we've been pushing you into a lot of babysitting. It can't be easy. If you need a break, Travis, then I'll be happy to watch over—"

He didn't hear anymore after that. His mind blanks out at the name. He could feel himself about to pass out. And gods, he lowkey hopes he stabs himself on his gladius and bleeds out. This shitty reaction to a random (familiar) guy's name is starting to get old.

* * *

He wakes up alone in an unfamiliar (no, it isn't) apartment on an unfamiliar bed (no, it isn't) in an unfamiliar room (no, it isn't). Connor stares at the wooden slits lining the upper bunk bed. The view is familiar. But where has he seen them? The barracks have metal bunk beds. And the foster home he stayed in did not have bunk beds at all. But it's so familiar… why is that…

Connor hisses at the sudden pain thrumming though his head, shooting upright to clench at his head.

Fuck.

He needs an Advil.

"You shouldn't think too hard about it, Connor."

He snaps towards the voice, sees a man in a business suit, and there's a blaring alarm sounding in his head. He knows this man. He met this man before. They're… friends? No… acquaintances? No, no… family? Family sounds right but Connor knows for certain he has never met this man before in his life.

"Uh…" Connor stands, barefoot and in a ninja turtle pajama top and bottom. He hadn't worn anything ninja turtles related since he was four. So either this is one crazy dream or Camp Half Blood has some really weird prison protocol. "Who are you?" Connor says.

The man smiles, but it's bitter, strained. Connor feels like he definitely saw that before.

"I'm—"

"Mercury?" Connor says, not really knowing how he knows he's speaking with a god when not one ever paid him any attention. He just knows for some reason. Oh god. He just interrupted a _god_. Shit. Shit. Shit. Don't start off on a bad foot on who could possibly be your dad, you fucking dumbass!

A slight shake of the head, the smile widening a bit. "Almost."

"... Hermes?" Connor hates how naturally the name rolls off his tongue. The man nods, pity written all over his face.

"And… you're my dad, right?"

Another nod.

"And… you were in your Greek form when you conceived me?"

One more nod.

Okay. Connor kind of expected that to be the answer, what with the way he never got along with some of his peers. But it hurts to actually have it confirmed. That's okay though. That is A-okay. He is still a Roman — born, raised, and trained under the legion. He's been at Camp Jupiter for 12 long years. (Hey.) It's like they say, the environment is what makes a person. (When did you come to Camp?) And he's been at Camp Jupiter longer than 99% of the people. (Think about it.) Octavian may be sorta right in calling him all those Greek slurs, but he just has to own up to it. (Hey.) Or he can hide the fact (Hello?), bunker down (Hey?), and deny it even more. (Hey, hey hey.) Then he can — (Heyyyyy) Then he can — (Hey) Then he can —

(When did you came to the camp?)

Four.

He came to Camp Jupiter when he was four years old.

So what was he doing before that? He can't remember. Why has he never thought about it? Because it (hurts) doesn't matter? But there's something there. There's _supposed _to be something there. That whole period of his life, before Jason and the foster home, is just one big blank. Why?

Then he remembered.

He remembered everything.

"You were using the mist to manipulate me," he says, accuses, blames, hands curling into fists.

There's a trembling.

Hermes's face is pained. "Yes, but—"

"You didn't want me to leave Camp Jupiter."

The walls are shaking.

"Yes, but it's because—"

The window panels are rattling.

"You _lied_ to me."

"I did but it was —"

A horrible, horrible pain is wracking his body. It feels like a knife is digging into his stomach. Like he's being boiled in oil. Like he's being lit on fire. Like he's being dunked in an ice bath. It hurts. Everywhere. It's all bad. It all feels the same.

Hermes fidgets about, shifting foot to foot in discomfort. "The curse. The more you remember, the worse it gets. I'm sorry, Connor, but I made your mother a promise. I won't let you— "

"Touch me and I'll bite your hand off," he hisses, stepping back and falling on his bottom as his knees give out.

A hand is coming and Connor struggles, scooting back, pushing the coming hand away, spitting even. But the hand still rests on his forehead and Hermes's face is the last thing he sees — tormented and agonized — before he's hurled from his childhood room and wakes up, screaming at the remnant pain.

He's dimly aware he's in the infirmary. He's dimly aware of people shouting. He's dimly aware of Jason gripping his biceps and yelling what's wrong, what's hurting. He's dimly aware of being mad at Hermes, but the pain is fading second by second and he doesn't know who he's mad at and he doesn't know why he's mad and wait, he's mad at someone? Why is it so cold? Is New York always this cold? Jason is still yelling right into his ear which is so not cool and oh wait, Jason is here. Why is Jason here? Isn't he supposed to be saving the world or something?

Then he's aware of a door opening and shoes skidding on polished wood boards. Everything, everyone is pushed back to the background when he spoke. He heard it so clearly, so loudly, like his brain is tuned to his voice.

"I brought tacos — woah, what is happening?"

He snaps his eyes towards the voice.

At first he thought he was staring at a mirror, because that's definitely his face but he's down on his back and the guy is standing. He's still in his civilian clothes and the guy is in an orange shirt. He has the SPQR tattoo on his wrist and the guy doesn't. The guy has 4 beads on a necklace and he doesn't.

But they share the same face.

And the little voice he always pushes to the back of his mind, the voice that begs him to leave, the voice that always makes sense is speaking again.

(You're not an only child)

Memories come back.

It's not much, but it's enough.

He's not an only child.

"Tra—" he tries to say, but the knife in his stomach twists deeper and he's throwing up all over the floor and Jason's shoes. He could see blood speckled in the green gunk. He stares at it for a second, tries to remember if that ever happened when mom was cursed.

"Tr— he tries again, but the words won't come. He feels suffocated. He can't breathe. Everything hurts. _The more you remember, the worse it gets_, Hermes had told him. Fuck that. You can endure this. You can survive this. Come on You need to say it. You need to say sorry. He's right there. He's _right_ there. Don't you fucking _dare _pass out. Come on. Come on. Come on. _Come on_. But like everything in his life, he fails that too.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

**Thank you for your support in this very slow updating fanfic! I appreciate all your support!**

**The chapter posted on my Tumblr is wildly different from this chapter. I made major changes lol **

**I also want everyone to know that this writer has a very sketchy memory of what happened in HOO. I read the books the week it was released and I never reread them again. So it's not going to be 100% accurate with the timeline unfortunately. Unless someone wants to send me a date by date timeline of events with detailed description of what happened. That would be great and I would be very thankful!**

**Warning: minor mention of suicide, vomiting**


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